Caroling, caroling through the slush

One would think I'd have more time to blog now that the semester is finished, but obviously this is not the case. I've been working at the store for the past few days and when I haven't been doing that it's been family Christmas parties and last-minute shopping . . . the holidays are exhausting.

The good news is that all of my wrapping is finished, I'm not working today or tomorrow, and Christmas music will be off the radio in two days. One slight snag is that my mom got Keira a Christmas mix for tomorrow morning. . . she's been asking for it and I fear that it will prolong the season until there are leaves on the Chinese maple in our front yard again. Sigh. For now, though, it's Christmas Eve and I know I'll be singing a few carols with relish along with Erin and Keira before going back to grumbling about them on the 26th.

Oh, and the snow is melting just in time for the holiday. Who planned that one, hm?

Making lists

Winter break is the perfect excuse to curl up with tea and a book, and I intend to take full advantage of this fact. Tomorrow (er, today?) my plan is to get up far earlier than 12:30 in the afternoon and head to the library to stock up for the month. There are so many books that I feel like I should've already read after twenty years on the planet . . . it's never too late to attempt to catch up, I guess.

Sweet Jesus, twenty is a big number. I'm still wrapping my head around that.

Anyways, I have two lists in the works:

The Book List

• The Handmaid's Tale
• Catch-22
• Lolita
• On The Road
• The Satanic Verses
• The Stranger
• Faust
• One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest

The Music List

• Leonard Cohen
• Belle & Sebastian
• Bob Dylan
• Paul Robeson
• Pete Seeger
• Wilco
• Destroyer
• Jenny Lewis & the Watson Twins
• Joan Baez
• Odetta

So that's tomorrow. Any suggestions?

Oh, and as far as tea goes . . . before leaving Geneseo I picked up a box of Yogi Tea's Chai Redbush to try and it is my new favorite. Wegmans and Wild By Nature carry it . . . just add a little bit of honey. Or better yet, come to my house and I will share a cup with you.

Also, I'm glad you got a chuckle out of my Monday morning mental lapse. I'm laughing about it, too. Heh heh.

You know it's STILL finals week when . . .

. . . despite going to sleep at eleven o'clock the night before, you wake up five minutes after your eight o'clock exam is scheduled to begin and literally stumble out of the room still wearing the same tie-dyed sweatshirt you wore and slept in the day before with a pair of red sweatpants and male moccasins without socks. You are sweating by the time you charge up the hill and burst into the classroom in a flurry of fleece and puffy hair, but make it to your seat just as the first song identification is being played.

Right around the fourth song out of ten, you realize that you are still wearing your disgusting retainers. Awesome.

You know it's finals week when . . .

. . . while sitting in the library downloading the music for tomorrow's last Woody Guthrie quiz, you realize that you've neglected to put a bra on underneath the shirt you slept in the night before and hide under the tie-dyed tent of a sweatshirt you are wearing.

Fitzwilliam Darcy became a fan of Fine Eyes

An early holiday gift for all you Facebook addicts/Jane Austen enthusiasts . . .

Finals, I will kick your collective butt

I changed my mind, I will totally relish these last six days despite the finals that will either make or break this semester. I woke up to an email from my humanities professor with my latest paper grade attached . . . despite convincing myself that I'd certainly gotten no higher than a C, I aced it and could only laugh. So now it's time for a clean sweep of these crazy classes because when I'm sitting across from my grandfather at dinner on Christmas Eve and he asks me about my grades, I am determined to both shock and delight the crowd with my results and that's all I have to say about that!

Finals week lament

I want to go home so badly. Seven more days . . .

A photo collage with a subtle theme

Hooooo-boy!

Alright, this is it . . . I'm working on my last paper of the semester, which is due tomorrow morning in my Woody Guthrie class. As I told John earlier, the only thought keeping me productive is the fact that if I don't finish this paper on hobos, I will likely become one. I'm using hobo songs to talk about their lifestyles and impact on American history and culture; it's honestly really interesting stuff but I am just so darn sick of writing papers. All I can think about is tomorrow at 10:20, at which point I will put down my pencil and do absolutely no work for the entire weekend simply on principle.

This picture was one of the first search results when I did a Google ImageSearch of 'hobo' . . . sorry if it's slightly offensive, but I had to attach it. I laughed for a good minute when I saw it, which may or may not indicate sleep deprivation. Back to banjos and bindles.

Post script: a bindle is that bundle of stuff on the end of a stick that you always associate with hobos. All I can say is that there better be a "HOBO TRIVIA" category when I'm a contestant on Jeopardy! one of these days.

Final stretch

I just want to live to see my twentieth birthday, which requires hanging on for less than a week. I am only sixteen written pages and a story revision away. It can happen.

The kid sitting at the table next to me in the library may not be as lucky. If he keeps giving his friend a play-by-play recap of last night's World of Warcraft adventure, I may have to slay his sorry self.